


Why Sam doesn't need to glare

by Sijglind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sijglind/pseuds/Sijglind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no need for Sam to get jealous. Even when Dean flirts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Sam doesn't need to glare

Sam doesn’t glare at the girl behind the bar.

Even when she leans in over the counter, her arms crossed on the beer-sticky surface, her breasts pushed together and up as if they’re trying to break free of the confines of her tanktop.

No, Sam doesn’t glare at the girl as she sends all possible signals towards his brother, all of them clearly shouting _fuck me in the alley behind the bar_.

Instead, he is amused, and the only thing he allows himself is some eye-rolling while Dean flirts back as if it’s his last day on Earth, his leer obvious, almost predatory, as he eyes the offered goods being all but pushed into his line of vision.

To everybody else it looks like the two of them are five seconds away of doing dirty things on top of the bar, beer stains and other patrons forgotten. After all, she is pretty, he is handsome, and the gestures and looks exchanged speak for themselves.

But Sam knows better, and that’s why he simply smiles, his own eyes on his brother as he leans in and says something to the girl, voice low and husky, making the bar-girl with the doe-eyes blush prettily. Others, lesser men, would be jealous.

But not Sam. Because Sam knows that Dean won’t follow her into the alley behind the bar when she will take a break in the next few minutes, eyes sending him an obvious invitation while she crosses the room to the door leading out to the back, even though Dean will look at her ass in those tight jeans, swaying from side to side as she walks.

Sam knows Dean will drain his beer, lips sucking obscenely on the rim of the bottle, green, green eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown, and then he will stand up and slip his jacket back on. But he won’t follow bar-girl. He will leave through the front door and slip into the driver’s seat of his baby, the engine already rumbling when Sam joins him. The drive to the motel will be silent, Dean keeping his eyes on the road, and Sam turning half in his seat to lean against the door so that he can watch his brother, the column of his throat when he swallows because he feels Sam’s heavy gaze resting on his skin, hot with promises they don’t voice aloud.

It will take them a couple of moments to get back to the motel, and Sam will simply watch and watch and watch, lips curled at the corners in a light smirk that looks and tastes forbidden.

They still won’t talk when the Impala is parked in front of their room, engine ticking silently as it cools down, the tension between the two brothers thick and heavy as they walk into the room with the two queens, Dean stopping when he stands in the middle of the room and waits with his back to his brother, waits for Sam to cross the distance and put his large hands on his shoulders, his lips on the side of his neck, right above his pulse, to suck a bruise there while the leather jacket slips from broad shoulders and jeans pool around ankles.

No, Sam isn’t jealous, because even when Dean flirts with women in the bars they go to, even when Dean leers and winks, Sam knows that he’ll always come back to the motel with Sam. He knows Dean will always breathe _Sammy_ against his lips while they kiss. He will always go on his knees for Sam, plush, pink, pretty lips stretching around Sam’s cock, or he will go on all fours on one of the beds, ass in the air, offering his hole to his baby brother to fuck, or he will wrap his legs around Sam’s waist, heels of his feet digging into the small of Sam’s back as he pounds his older brother into the mattress, teeth nipping, tongue licking, lips kissing a collar bone, their breaths and sighs turning to moans and groans and screams of pleasure.

Dean will say, _Sammy, c’mon, baby brother, please, Sammy, harder, jesus, fuck, god, Sammy, yes, right there, yes, gonna—_

And Sam will say, _Dean, so good for me, so tight, so hot, yes, Dean, fuck, you like this don’t you, knew you would, Dean, gonna come inside you, gonna fill you up, please, let me—Dean!_

You see, Sam doesn’t glare but leans back and smiles, because by the end of the night, it will always be him with his cock up Dean’s tight, perfect ass, fucking him against the wall, or on the floor, or into the bed.

There’s no need to be jealous, because Dean will always come back to the motel room with him.


End file.
